Sometimes I surprise myself
with how much of you I carry.
How easily your name
finds its way into my conversations,
how my face brightens before I even notice.
I speak of you without trying.
Your little stories,
the small moments you probably forgot,
the details I kept like secrets.
I remember the way you laugh at certain things,
the pauses in your voice,
the habits only noticed by someone
who listens closely.
And in those moments,
I realize something simple and true:
that talking about you makes me happy,
that knowing you feels like a quiet joy,
and that is how I know
how special you are to me.
Dec 17, 2025
Dec 17, 2025 at 10:59 AM UTC
Sometimes I surprise myself
with how much of you I carry.
How easily your name
finds its way into my conversations,
how my face brightens before I even notice.
I speak of you without trying.
Your little stories,
the small moments you probably forgot,
the details I kept like secrets.
I remember the way you laugh at certain things,
the pauses in your voice,
the habits only noticed by someone
who listens closely.
And in those moments,
I realize something simple and true:
that talking about you makes me happy,
that knowing you feels like a quiet joy,
and that is how I know
how special you are to me.
